


Pizza Pasta

by WanderinTsundoku



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderinTsundoku/pseuds/WanderinTsundoku
Summary: Spaghetti isn't feeling too good after a fight with his Master Attendant leaves him with a migraine. Pizza tries to help.





	Pizza Pasta

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyyy Italian foods being cute.

I lay my head down on the pillow. My mind pulsates as I try to calm myself. The anger from moments ago rages in my thoughts. Another sting against my skull causes me to flinch involuntarily under the covers. 

“Spaghetti?” Pizza calls out to me. I open my eyes to see him stand before me on the edge of the bed. The springs of the mattress squeak down with his weight as he leaned on the edge. I swear I locked the door, or maybe my mind is so jumbled that I didn't realize that I had left it free. I tilted up to see the door now closed, my head quickly dropping back down to the pillow out of my control. I grunt as my mind spins, the migraine growing. 

“Pizza… why are you in here?” I mumble out. My sight spinning as he lays down next to me and pulls the covers back up on us. 

“Your door was wide open and I saw you curled up. I wanted to make sure you're ok. That fight you had with Master Attendant was real bad,” he snuggles close, wrapping himself around me like a lost puppy. Reaching a hand up he rubs the side of my head. The pressure from his fingers pains me, but I remain still. 

“I'm fine,” I close my eyes to stop the spinning room. I return Pizza's embrace as my other arm curls under the pillow, propping up some support. 

“You don't seem it,” I don't have to see him to visualize the frown on his face. 

“Pizza, don't worry about me,” I rub his back as I rest my chin on his head, “I've dealt with this before, I can handle it.” 

“But I don't like seeing you in pain,” his sniffles tell me that he's crying. I run gentle fingers through his hair. 

“Hey,” I whisper, “It's alright.” He continues to quietly weep as I comfort him. 

“So-sorry. I came to cheer you up… but,” he sobs against my chest tears soaking my shirt. Normally, I would cringe at such manners. However, he was Pizza. I swore to protect him the moment our Master Attendant summoned him. I was, to my own surprise, someone he looked up to.

Although another sharp sting echoes in my mind, I push it back to focus on Pizza. He shakes as he chokes out apology after apology. 

“It's my fault Master Attendant got mad at you, and that made you mad at them, and then and then you two had that fight. And that you, you got so stressed over it, and now- now you hate me because, I'm the reason you have a headache-” he rumbles continuously without sense. I allow him to rant so he can explore his emotions. There's no worse weight than having every terrible thought gathered within a conscious. 

When he begins to quietly repeat himself I whisper, “Pizza? Pizza listen alright?” I curl into him holding tightly. I open my eyes to look at his blonde locks. 

“Hmm?” he sniffles. 

“I want you to know that I understand how you feel. It's alright to feel that way. But I want you to understand that's not your fault. No one blames you. I don't blame you.” I massage his back, as I pull my other arm down to embrace him in a full hug. 

“Spaghetti…” he snuggles closer, breath finally calming. 

“Shh,” I pull the covers tighter around us trapping the warmth, “it's alright Pizza. You're okay.” The buzzing in my mind numbs. He is calmed and so am I. 

“Are you ok?” he mumbles resting his head in the crook of my neck. 

“I am, thank you,” I ruffle his hair, “Listen, one last nag. Try to get some rest.”

“I should be telling you that,” he lazily jokes before drifting off closer slumber. A yawn escapes him as he shifts a bit in my arms. 

“Well I'm telling you first,” I close my eyes again. Slowly drifting off with him. I wait, however, until he falls asleep first. 

He always had nightmares. About what? I did not risk to ask. 

It only takes a few moments into his sleep that he jerks and gasps out, “N-no. Whisk- no, please, no-” 

I hold him close and rock him. I hum to him softly, not loud enough to wake him but enough to smooth his nightly horrors. In my arms, he is protected.


End file.
